The Importance of Roles
by UnderWeather
Summary: In which Rukia, Ichigo, and Ishida think about the upcoming war. Plus, small mention of Kenpachi. And Byakuya if you can catch him. Rated T for messy description of murder in the beginning.


Author's Note: Alternate Universe. An experimentation of sorts...

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of anything.

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**.01**

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It was in a small village, tucked into the edge of a seldom-traveled forest, that a shrill scream broke out into the night. A strangled sob escaped the dry lips of the unfortunate soul, as her body fell forward into a mass of limp limbs. The flames of the steadily burning fire drew ugly shapes against the dead faces of the surrounding wide-eyed corpses. Glassware from an earlier meal had shattered into tiny shards of dust, sprinkling the stained wooden floors, smeared in blood and cracking under the weight of lifeless bodies, in a brilliant shine.

As the burning village fell, agonized wails echoing off the crumbling buildings, a lone figure stood amidst the destruction, shadowed in a strange and enchanting glow. His body was circled by dancing white flames, in a show of chaotic glory, and a black cloak covered his face from view, save a pair of striking blue eyes that burned with power and the promise of vengeance.

Softly, a whisper was carried across the blood darkened land, "The time has come. The Soul Reapers have returned."

All was still underneath the drape of stars, as the world held its breath in preparation for the end.

* * *

The sun, I decided with a grimace, was perhaps my most formidable foe to date. But even as its unrelenting rays bore into my already sweat-soaked back, I did not dare to remove my gaze from my newest and dearest friend.

I stared into her deep black eyes, their teary depths heartbreaking. It seemed she had already begun to accept her inevitable fate, and I pitied her helplessness.

"Two copper pieces for the hen!"

"Three! Three pieces for the hen and her eggs!"

I turned my angry glare onto the crowd of eager homemakers in disgust. Without thinking, I braced my hands on the surface of the makeshift scaffolding used for the auction, and lifted myself up, crawling forward to my endangered friend. Behind me I could hear shocked gasps and scolding, but I didn't let myself get distracted from the task at hand. Quickly gathering the chicken up, I turned towards the bystanders.

"How dare you try to buy this beautiful creature? For what purpose do you need this hen and her babies?" I yelled, scrambling to stand up and clutching the panicked hen to my chest. "You bloodthirsty bunch should be ashamed of yourselves!"

There was a small moment of stunned silence, before the spectators broke out into angry protests, suddenly shoving forward. A shuffling to my right caught me off guard and I steered toward the edge, nearly stumbling off the platform. My eyes widened as I felt the cool slide of a sweat drop down my cheek, before I righted myself and turned to my would-be-murderer.

"Who the heck are you? What do you think you're doing with my product?" a red-faced man with a heavy build barked at me. He was gesturing wildly, stumbling forward, and grabbing at the squawking chicken in my arms. "I'm gonna get you arrested for stealing, you little punk!"

As the crowd began to cheer for the brute, complete with fist pumps and clapping, I realized I had gotten myself into more trouble than I had originally thought, and quickly weighed my options. With the enraged farmer nearing, I gave an apologetic look to the hen, before I tuned away and leapt off the other end of the scaffold, making a run for it.

"Where are you going? Get back here little girl!" I could hear heavy footsteps pounding after me, and I held the bird that was angrily flapping tighter against my chest. I could almost laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Here I was, a grown, mostly reasonable, _intelligent _young woman, with a chicken in her arms, being chased by a giant of a man, who could probably crush me with his bare hands.

Turning sharply around a tight corner, I ducked behind a hay-filled cart and stopped to catch my breath. There was no way my short legs could outrun the bigger man for much longer. For now, I would hide and hope he didn't find me.

Foolishly, I found myself shushing the hen, smoothing its feathers and whispering soothingly, "Everything's going to be alright. We just have to wait a bit, and then we can go home." And after some time passed, I almost believed it as well.

"What do you think you're doing?" I immediately tensed, sucking in my breath as the deep masculine voice was accompanied by a firm grip to my upper arm.

Slowly, I glanced up through my lashes, before narrowing my eyes at the easy smirk and bright orange hair, shoving the not-so-stranger away from me and jumping to my feet.

"YOU! This is all your fault! If you had just arrived when you said you would, then none of this would have happened!" I pointed an accusing finger at his face, while he scowled back at me, picking himself off the ground.

"What are you talking about, Rukia? And where did you get this chicken?" He asked, snatching it out of my hold. I gasped as he held it away from me, looking at it with curious scrutiny.

"I bought it at the auction! Give her back Ichigo!" I tried reaching for her unsuccessfully. Ichigo was a good foot taller than I, and he always used his height to his advantage.

He looked at me with narrowed eyes and blocked my hands with his right arm. "You didn't steal it, did you? You always get into some sort of trouble," he said suspiciously.

"Or course not! And even if I did, it certainly wouldn't have been for you!" I crossed my arms in front of me and met his milky brown eyes with my own steely blue ones.

He seemed to consider it for a moment, before chuckling and handing back the chicken. "Whatever. You do as you please. Can't imagine what you'd want with it, though..." He shrugged for emphasis.

I gave him a cheeky grin, announcing proudly, "What else? I'm going to eat her!"

He shook his head in amusement, raising a hand in agreement, before turning as if to walk away. Before he was able to, I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait a minute. What happened? Didn't you say to meet after training?" We were supposed to meet at the town center, which was where the whole chicken auction debacle occurred.

He answered with a lopsided grin. "If you'd actually go to training you would know that the senior classes just got out." Ignoring my halfhearted denials, he took a step back and turned away, his angular features facing the shadows of the narrow alley. "Don't worry about it. Why don't you go see Ishida? He's been wondering why you haven't visited him lately. I'll see you at home later. I have to go meet with Captain Kenpachi."

And before I could ask more questions, he had already pulled away towards the town barracks. There was a strange look in his eyes as he turned, and I didn't miss his tightly clenched fists.

* * *

"Please tell me that _thing_ is not what I think it is," Uryu Ishida said in a decidedly scandalized voice when he opened the door for me. Behind his glasses, his eyes were screwed up in disgust, and he even seemed to be leaning back in mock horror.

"That depends on what you think it is," I answered, pushing my way inside.

With a resigned sigh, he closed the door behind me. "Rukia, why did you bring a live chicken to my house?" The way he looked down on me with his narrowed eyes would've been intimidating if I had not grown up with him and knew him to be a friend.

"I was hoping you'd make a meal out of her," I said honestly, getting comfortable on his limited furniture. Ishida was impeccably neat and organized, and had very refined artistic preferences, but he disliked unnecessary or access items lying around. Unfortunately, this meant that he could never have any guests over because of his lack of seating.

As I browsed my surroundings, already bored with the muted pastels and spotless charm of the place, I was surprised when he silently took hold of the subdued bird, and replied softly, "As you wish," before proceeding to the kitchen.

While he set to work on dinner, I wandered around his small but tasteful sitting room, absentmindedly running my fingers along the few knickknacks he allowed to be on display. There were only two pictures on his wall; one of his family, all in stoic poses, identical non-smiles, and donning signature white crosses, and a more recent one of us. Ishida, Ichigo, and I, on our first day of training. I couldn't stop a fond smile from gracing my lips.

When he had still stayed with Ichigo and I, we would find ourselves butting heads often, as it would turn out we had little in common. Where I was adventurous, Ishida was reserved, and Ichigo wild. We were an odd trio, but Ichigo, with his orange hair and in his always heroic mannerisms- looking, acting, and behaving like a knight, at least in public- and Ishida, with his Quincy roots, extremely rare in these parts, stood out the most. Ishida was majestic, light, with an almost grounding presence, and all sharp features where Ichigo was dark, rough, and angular, less graceful. If Ishida was a Prince, and Ichigo a Knight, I guess that would make me the evil Witch.

"Rukia?" I snapped out of my thoughts, stopping for a moment to control my breathing, and looked up at where Ishida had popped his head around the corner. "Are you okay? You look a little pale." He gave me a critical look before adding, "It looked as if your eyes were glowing for a second there."

I smiled easily and shook my head. "What? You're imagining things, I'm just hungry."

He watched me for a moment before replying. "Right… Anyways, I asked you a question, but you must not have heard me."

I raised an eyebrow, glad that he didn't wish to ask more questions about my spacing out. For years I have managed to hold back the thundering in my veins, the fiery pulsing of my heart, and I would not have that time be wasted by answering such a long overdue and undesirable call. "What did you want to know?"

He seemed a bit uncomfortable, which was rare for Ishida, and tucked his long black hair behind his right ear. "I don't want to pressure you into anything, but I've been wondering… If you've figure out what you're going to do after we leave."

I turned to face him entirely, confused and slightly alarmed. "Leave? Who's leaving? What for?"

There was a tense moment in which he regarded me with real frustration etched into his features, and I could feel his irritation tickling against my skin. "This is no time to be delusional, Rukia. We can't play at being kids anymore."

"I am not a child, Uryu. Stop sugar-coating everything and tell me what's on your mind," I spat, equally annoyed at his condescending tone.

I watched as he suddenly faced toward the ground, his hands restless, rubbing together in an easy and constant movement. "You don't understand," he said, and I found myself instantly worrying as he continued in a soft tone, "Ichigo must not have told you."

This caught my attention and I stepped forward, gripping his arm tightly and forcing him to face me. "What's going on? Are you two in trouble?"

His eyes met mine, and I could suddenly feel all the intensity in his gaze, realizing now why Quincy magic was so feared, as I felt instantly stuck.

"You are right, Rukia. You are not a child." Pulling his left arm out of my grip and turning away, he continued roughly, "The Soul Reapers have come, and we must prepare for war."

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Later, tucked into bed, in a familiar room where all my cherished memories have lived for so long, I thought about the war, my family, and how the end was too near to worry about such things.

I thought about the Knight, the Prince, and how the Witch was always their ultimate downfall.

I remembered Ishida's guarded eyes as he walked me home, not speaking a word. I remembered Ichigo's determined stalk towards the town barracks.

And more than ever, I remembered a man I had met years ago, with fiery blue eyes, who had stolen my soul.

* * *

In the morning, while Ichigo and I are having a plain breakfast of milk and bread, I don't speak.

I never mention the anguished cry I heard coming from Ichigo's bed, calling out for his mother.

He never asks why my eyes glowed white in the dark.

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**Unfinished, unpolished, and plot-less.

Tell me what you think! :)


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